“This One is for the Boys”: Nicki Minaj, Camp Aesthetics and Digital Diva Worship

This article has been peer reviewed

The first time I heard a Nicki Minaj song was in the computer lab at school. On Fridays, while we were working, our teacher would put the radio on, and as soon as “Super Bass” started playing, I stopped everything to listen. When I arrived home that day, I rushed into my dad’s office to the only computer, and watched the music video¹ directed by Sanaa Hamri on YouTube. By the time my sisters got home from high school an hour or so later, I had not moved; I was still watching it on repeat. Nicki Minaj was everything an 11-year-old little gay boy could want: Campy outfits, an array of amazing, coloured wigs, catchy pop songs, and rap verses that I would practice for hours until I got them right. As I grew up and entered my early teens, I never wanted anyone to catch me watching the video or listening to this type of music. There was a sense of shame that I didn’t understand. I first thought it was because this type of music was “girly” and didn’t want to be made fun of even more for liking feminine things. 

It wasn’t until I was invited to speak at the My Formative Queers Symposium that I sat down and started to think about why this song and its video were so impactful to me. Since the beginning of her career, Nicki Minaj has naturally collected a queer audience through her hyper-feminine style and mainstream pop ventures. However, Minaj is often omitted from the canon of modern-day gay icons, which typically includes stars such as Lady Gaga or Katy Perry. To explore this dynamic of Minaj’s fandom and place as a queer icon, I will use the music video for Nicki Minaj’s “Super Bass” as a case study. Camp aesthetics and sensibilities are examined to understand why I was drawn to the music video as a gay child, and what made Nicki Minaj stand out from other artists at the time, particularly in the hip-hop genre. From there, I explore the concept of “diva worship” to examine why gay men have such a deep connection to female celebrities and to understand the impact of this phenomenon. Finally, I explore how social media platforms can be used for diva worship, allowing for community formation and identity realisation. Through this examination of Nicki Minaj and the music video for “Super Bass”, I argue that the female diva archetype continues to impact the lives of gay men, with modern social media platforms acting as the main outlets for this form of celebrity worship. 

The Harajuku Barbie: Camp Stylings in “Super Bass”

The use of Camp to describe over-the-top performance has long been prevalent in the pop music sphere. Sontag writes: “Camp is a vision of the world in terms of style – but a particular kind of style. It is the love of the exaggerated, the ‘off’, of things-being-what-they-are-not.”² “Super Bass” was the fifth single off Nicki Minaj’s debut album Pink Friday.³ Despite being a deluxe track, not listed on the initial standard release of the album, the song is still the most successful record on the album, peaking at number three on the Billboard Hot 100, and being one of the album’s only singles to chart internationally. Minaj’s impact and her notable style quickly helped make a name for herself, with a writer for Billboard stating, “Ever since Nicki Minaj emerged into the pop scene, the rap diva has been as admired for her quirky, one-of-a-kind fashion as for her distinctive rap style. And topping every outfit she dons is a colourful, eye-catching wig that could (and often does) make headlines on its own.”⁴ 

“Super Bass” by Nicki Minaj

The music video for “Super Bass”, which is currently her second-most viewed with over one billion views on YouTube, showcases Minaj’s camp aesthetic of the time. In the video, Minaj rides atop a motorcycle made of ice in a tight pink and white giraffe print body suit with a split-toned pink and white wig, swims in pink water in a blue and green swimsuit with a matching green wig, and dances on a man in a blacklight fluro dress and purple wig. Even her tamest outfit, consisting of jean cut-offs and a white tank, is paired with a pink wig. Four other women are dressed in the exact same outfit. These “Nicki-aesthetics”, as described by Uri McMillan, refer to how Minaj used camp aesthetics to stand out in the hip-hop sphere, in which “Minaj not only crashes hip-hop’s proverbial boys club, but also refuses its constitutive element – a street-savvy authenticity, or ‘realness’ – in favour of girly artifice”.⁵  

“Super Bass” by Nicki Minaj

Through the video, Nicki contrasts her exaggerated hyper-feminine style with a collection of hyper-masculine, half-naked men. They watch, starstruck as she walks into the pool, they stand strong and tall as she dances around them. Time slows down as Nicki enters the frame. All the men sitting around the pool stop and look up at her as she walks past them. Hamri cuts to close-ups of the men turning to watch Nicki. For the rest of the verse, while Nicki is singing and dancing in the pink water, the men are just inside the frame to admire her, while being just out of focus, so that all the attention remains on the rapper. It could be argued that this heteronormative positioning of the video undermines the camp potential of the music video, that it is not subversive enough, and that it only continues the tradition of sexualising and objectifying women. Such claims of “Super Bass” being objectifying would fail to consider the social context in which the video was released. Women in rap music have been over-sexualised long before Minaj’s debut, with much of the genre displaying women as sexual objects for male consumption and with misogynistic lyrics painting women as either “hoes” or “bitches”.⁶ “Super Bass” is a subversion of such standards. This positioning of Nicki Minaj in the video, combined with her use of flamboyant mannerisms, highlights Sontag’s sentiment that “to camp is a mode of seduction”.⁷ While Nicki is styled in her green wig and multicoloured bathing suit, the men are dressed simply in trunks with their muscular bodies oiled up on display. Nicki Minaj is the subject, while the men are objectified through the close-ups of their bodies and how they are used as set pieces to highlight Nicki’s femininity and style. 

“Super Bass” by Nicki Minaj

Not only did this use of camp aesthetics in her music video differentiate Minaj in the rap scene of the time, which was dominated by male artists and misogynistic depictions of women, but it also allowed her to reach a wider audience by appealing to a more mainstream culture. The camp aesthetic was embraced in pop music, perhaps most notably by stars such as Katy Perry and Lady Gaga, but Minaj’s blending of camp with rap music allowed her to reach wider audiences. “Super Bass” quickly became popular with children, as shown by internet personalities Grace and Rosie, two Nicki “superfans” who met the rapper on The Ellen DeGeneres Show,⁸ and more importantly for the focus of this piece, gay men. Nicki Minaj has attracted queer male fans since the start of her career, with BET naming her one of the most pro-LGBT rappers.⁹ She has advocated against queer youth suicide and pulled out of performing in Saudi Arabia, stating, “I believe it is important for me to make clear my support for the rights of women, the LGBTQ community and freedom of expression.”¹⁰

In Nicki We Trust: Diva Worship and Queer Identity Formation.

In the mid-to-early 2000s, while my older sisters were defining themselves as alternative and emo through their music and style, my identity was shaped by a plethora of female pop stars. As a gay child, my musical taste centred around female pop and, as Hargreaves and colleagues suggest, this allowed me to “publicly communicate [my] group affiliations and to express [my personality] and values.”¹¹ My interest in a song and video like “Super Bass”, which deviates from rap music norms with Minaj’s camp aesthetic, overtly feminine lyrics, and pop music production, set me apart from my peers – particularly my male peers – due to my connection to stereotypical feminine music. I was already othered by my queerness, and my taste in music echoed this sentiment. This connection to pop music – and specifically to Minaj – only intensified with each subsequent year, and by the time I was fifteen years old, most of my personal identity – and especially my online identity – revolved around being a “Barb” (“The Barbz” is Minaj’s nickname for her fans).  

Gay men’s affiliation with female pop stars has a long and legendary history, with this community endowing iconic status on everyone from Judy Garland, Julie Andres, Cher, Madonna and – in my instance – Nicki Minaj. While the “diva” changes every few years, and most gay men have their own icon to worship, the reasons behind gay men’s obsession with divas remain. In describing this relationship, Brett Farmer states that “‘diva worship’ has been a vital staple of gay male cultural production, where it has sustained a spectacularly diverse array of insistently queer pleasures”¹² and “that adoration functioned as a process through which to resist and transfigure the oppressive banalities of the heteronormative everyday.”¹³ While I was unaware at 11 years old that my fixation on “Super Bass” was countercultural, I can now better understand this process. I knew that I should feel ashamed of my liking of her music due to its feminine and camp presentation, yet I could not deny the immense connection I felt to it. I would hide my enjoyment of her music or make excuses that might deflect any questions regarding my sexuality; that my enjoyment of the music and visuals was simply because I was attracted to her. I was subconsciously aware that to be seen to enjoy Nicki Minaj for her musical talent and her visual presentation would be akin to admitting that I was the wrong type of boy.

It has been argued that the need for diva worship as a way of self-actualisation is no longer necessary, especially given the relative ease for gay men to openly express themselves. The idea that gay men need to use female divas, be they singers or actors, to find solace can be argued as outdated and stereotypical. Harris argues: “For the contemporary homosexual […] the use of the Diva to achieve romantic fulfilment through displacement is the politically repugnant fantasy of the self-loathing pansy whose dependence on the escapism of cinema must be ritually purged from his system.”¹⁴ However, this assertion fails to consider major reasons why the Diva archetype is still prevalent for gay men. The idea that diva worship is something to be degraded or shamed implies that gay men should try to assimilate into mainstream heterosexual culture, rather than form their own pop-cultural identity. Craig Jennex echoes this sentiment, stating “the notion that masculine identities animated by or based on diva performance is a weakness, and that such identities need to be eradicated from contemporary gay male culture, seems misogynist, anti-queer, and perilously assimilationist.”¹⁵ Jennex outlines how diva worship by queer fans is a unique, integral and empowering part of queer culture that is used to form communities, and for the imagining of a queer utopia. 

“@Nickiminaj saved my life”: Digital diva worship as community formation

When Farmer described how he conducted his worship of Julie Andrews as a young gay man, he recalled “Listless afternoons, returned home from school, I would rush to the living room, position myself squarely in front of the family hi-fi and blissfully listen my way through my expansive collection of Julie Andrews LPs”¹⁶  In his example, the experience is solitary, as was mine when I was developing my connection to Nicki Minaj. However, as my connection with Minaj deepened, the experience developed into something more relational. I would watch Minaj’s videos online, reading and writing comments on YouTube. I would consume other fan-made art about her. I created several social media accounts that I would use to share content about her, creating my own GIFs or collages. With the absence of queer peers in my day-to-day life, I connected with other fans of Nicki Minaj online, many of whom were queer themselves. It was through a Nicki Minaj fan account that I first vocalised my queerness. Empowered by my online anonymity within a community of like-minded and other queer people, I gained acceptance of myself. 

Jimmy Draper¹⁷ notes, with the expansion of web 2.0 technology and social media, the ways fans connect and engage with celebrity shifts the act of diva worship from private to public online. This connection through, for example, a “Twitter community is more than just a group of fans gathered together. It is a platform where they are actively collaborating and coordinating their efforts towards a goal. In the process, they are learning from fellow community members.”¹⁸ Diva worship through “Stan Twitter” creates a forum for community formation; a place for people around the world to create spaces for coming-togetherness via a shared interest. Further, modern fandom spaces also allow for the formation and understanding of identity, especially for queer fans. Queer fans are the most likely to feel deep parasocial relationships with female celebrities,¹⁹ especially through the diva worship practices of young queer men, but this practice can ostracise them from their peers, especially if their interests are seen as too feminine. This is why I, for example, would hide my interest in Minaj whenever people would ask me what type of music I liked. I would often answer with male-led bands that my sisters were interested in, as this choice felt more socially accepted. Through her interviews with queer fans of the show Xena: Warrior Princess, Rosalind Hamner outlined how media and fandom impacted queer audiences.²⁰ Participation in internet fandom enables queer youth to construct and understand their sexual identity, especially if it is felt such traits might make them outsiders in everyday life. As such, digital diva worship can offer a therapeutic experience for queer fans. 

Online fandom spaces have become the primary way for queer youths to connect, with many such communities forming over a shared love of a sole Diva – something that is often now referred to as faves, stans, or biases. In fact, the use of social media to proclaim allegiance to a particular celebrity has increased the prevalence and ease of diva worship. In other words, the role of the fan in diva worship has expanded with social media. The fan is no longer just a consumer of the media; the fan plays a key role in the consumption, production, and marketing of the celebrity’s work. Through fan accounts, fans share the music more widely, create their own fan works based on  the celebrity or the media, and impact the reception of the music through their diehard support of the artist.²¹ Through the participatory method of fan engagement, my diva worship of Nicki Minaj did not simply end with consuming her music or videos. Rather, this was only the beginning.  

These modern platforms for diva worship are by no means without critique, as demonstrated by my own online diva worship. As a young child with little supervision online, there was no way for me to determine to whom I was connecting on my fan blogs. Further, some of these online spaces devolve into a toxic culture of fighting between different fan groups and the casualisation of cyberbullying, such as sending abusive comments based on who you stan. In their analysis of toxicity and K-pop fandom, Faye Mercier asserts that  “Toxic discourses in these instances are mobilised not as a means of defending one’s fan identity but, rather, as a tool for reflecting upon, assessing and asserting the value and importance of said identity to the individual.”²² Such discourse around identity in and through fandom communities is perhaps the main way in which diva worship has adapted to the modern pop culture and technological landscape.

Conclusion 

The music video for Nicki Minaj’s “Super Bass” subverts hip-hop norms due to its use of over-the-top fashion and camp aesthetics. Minaj is not simply over-sexualised and feminised for the consumption of men; she is using her over-exaggerated style to position herself as the ideal and the subject. The camp aesthetic of the video also allows Nicki Minaj to reach a wider audience not typically targeted by rap music, particularly queer audiences.

As a young gay man already feeling ostracised from my male peers, I used my interest in female celebrities, especially Nicki Minaj, to find solace and further position myself as different from my peers. As technology has evolved, the act of diva worship has transformed from a solitary act to a participatory culture where fans create online communities over shared interests in celebrities. Through this, social media acts as a modern forum for diva worship, empowering gay youth to connect with other like-minded people and explore their identities. The music video for “Super Bass” was more than just a video of a song I enjoyed as a child; it was the catalyst for discovering who I was. Reflecting on this time in my life enables a better understanding of how significant Nicki Minaj and the “Super Bass” music video were to the development of my queer identity.

Endnotes